Please Come Back
by Sei-sama
Summary: Before the accident. The normal life of Dr. Cockroach...previously known as Jeffery G. Hedison.
1. Dancing

**Man, a Monsters vs Aliens fic. I wasn't sure if I could crank out one, but apparently I can.**

**Hah, my favorite character was Dr. Cockroach. As soon as Susan was whacking him with that giant spoon, I knew I loved him. Even though I hate bugs. And because the main thing I didn't like about the movie was how it didn't focus enough on the monsters for my tastes, I decided to make a back story for Dr. C for myself.**

**By the way, the name Jeffery G. Hedison was stolen from Go-Go Spiders. With permission. She made it up but didn't get to use it in her story, Goin' Nowhere (which you should totally read right now), so I felt it should be used. Also, it was cooler than what I could think of. Because I'm lazy. Also, even though I'm unfamiliar with life in the 50's, I didn't do as much research as I should have. I apologize for anything here that doesn't make sense in the period it's supposed to take place in. It's my fault since I didn't even try to research much.  
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**I'll be putting up the other chapters later, since all of them are...abnormably short, and I'm actually almost done with the whole thing. Uh, please review and stuff. Don't forget what I told you about Goin' Nowhere. (God, this is a long note...)  
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A beautiful short haired woman wearing a slightly rumpled lab coat was sitting on a small couch, nervously alternating from chewing on her fingers and jiggling her knees. She avoided staring at the old grandfather clock to her right, but could still hear the pendulum swinging back and forth, tick tock, tick tock.

Laura jumped up from the couch when she heard the front door open. She had gone home from work early just to greet her husband from his latest job interview. This was the fifth this week, and so far he had been rejected, but she always came home early to ask the usual.

Jeffery G. Hedison stood awkwardly at the door looking very clean and professional with his neat pencil moustache and in his black suit and tie. His shoes, though, had gotten rather dirty, as if he had kicked into every lawn he passed on the way home. And his wild dark hair really offset any look of a quiet businessman.

"How'd it go?" Laura asked, wringing her short dark brown hair nervously. Her wide hazel eyes stared up at him, making him look away uncomfortably.

Running a hand through his messy hair, Jeffery mumbled, "I don't think they liked me."

"Oh, honey, you can't say that – "

"When I started listing my interests, their smiles became strained."

"Well, maybe they – "

"They winced every time I laughed."

"Well…" Laura had nothing very positive to say to that. "…I love your laugh. It's so…carefree. They're missing out on a great laugh."

Jeffery sighed as he once again ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more. "My laugh isn't the point, my dear," he said, locking the front door. He kicked off his dirty shoes before dragging himself to the modest living room, his wife trailing worriedly behind. "The fact is, I'll never find an employer willing to hire me. I'll never get a job." As he slumped on the couch, Laura came up behind him and draped her arms around his shoulders.

He could smell the shampoo in her hair (smelled like watermelons this time) and feel her breath as she got ready to console him again. "A scientist is a job, Jeff. Even if your lab is the basement and you have no government funding, you're a scientist, and a really smart one! Smarter than some of the guys at my place!"

"First of all," Jeffery started, rubbing his temples with one hand, "if I'm so smart, why won't anybody hire me? Second of all, you're an entomologist; I'm doubtful you meet many outside your own field so you can't really say how smart I am compared to others. Third, you're my _wife_. I'm sure you're biased. I'd be quite unhappy if you weren't, actually." Laura, though she tried to look stern, couldn't help cracking a smile at the last remark.

"Oh Jeff, why do you have to be so defeatist?"

"I'm not being defeatist, I'm simply being realistic! In fact, you've been consoling me the same way this past week! Laura, face it, I'm doomed to stay here, working on failing basement projects and cooking our meals…"

Laura was silent for a few minutes, still leaning forward onto her husband, trying to think of something that would cheer him up. "Let's dance," she suddenly said with such finality that Jeffery couldn't help but jerk his head towards her and stare.

"We don't have any music to dance to," he pointed out.

"Doesn't matter, let's just dance." Jeffery continued to incredulously stare. Laura rebutted with the stare Jeffery liked to call 'The Wide-Eyed Bambi Look." Partly because of how her eyes dilated to extreme size, like the usual Disney style, partly because he could never resist how cute she looked when wielding it, like, well, Bambi. "Pleeease? If you want, I can hum a tune. I can sing our wedding song! Just dance with me."

With that pleading look, how could he refuse? Chuckling, Jeffery replied, "Alright. We only have a couch, a side table, and a radio in here anyways, we have plenty of room."

And so the couple stood up and danced. Laura softly crooned, _"…Myyyy heeaart cries for you, sighs for you, dies for you…_" They slowly waltzed across the floor, staring lovingly into each other's eyes, and suddenly it didn't matter that he didn't have a job, that none of his experiments had ever brought in money. Those silly earthly worries would be far behind him tonight.

As they spun around the small couch, Jeffery joined in: "_You'll haaave a million chances to staaart anew,_

"_Becaauuse my love is endless for yoouuu…_"


	2. The Accident

**The first chapter didn't give much...background...explanatory stuff...ish. Couldn't fit it in. So this one has more of that. Hope y'all like this.**

* * *

Well, there was something good about being unemployed: you didn't have to wake up early.

Jeffery woke up alone as usual. Laura always got up early in the morning to catch the bus. He always slept 'til around eleven in the morning.

On the lampshade beside him, Laura left a taped note: '_Big project opportunity, tell you about it later! Kisses!_' A goofy smile crept onto his face and didn't leave even as he dressed himself and made his brunch. In fact, it widened when he walked out the bathroom, down the unadorned hall and paused in the living room. He was struck with sudden gratefulness towards colleges that offered the choice of studying abroad; without them, how would have he met Laura?

As he made scrambled eggs, he started humming their wedding song again, only in a faster and more lighthearted tone. It was strange, he had always thought, to have a wedding song be about a couple being apart. It was rather morose and Jeffery felt that it was more appropriate for a divorced couple. Laura just laughed when he asked why this particular song. "You don't have to have a reason for everything," she had said. "Maybe I just like Guy Mitchell."

But knowing that he would be bothered about it years after, Jeffery had insisted on a reason. Laura then stood there, chewing on her lip in thought as she clutched the record close to her modest dress. "How about this then? It'll be a warning for us if we ever get the stupid idea that we should be apart. We'll remember it whenever we get in a fight and we'll make up. Is that good enough for you?" Her light laugh had rung clearly in his ears like so many small bells.

Now that his scrambled eggs were done, Jeffery stepped downstairs with the steaming plate. The basement was what Laura teasingly called his secret laboratory. They never mentioned it much in public as, with his erratic laugh and his messy hair, people already thought him rather mad-scientist-like, which he resented. After all, what was mad about a man who liked tinkering around with things? He liked thinking himself as more of an eccentric scientist; there could be a middle ground, couldn't there? Jeffery admitted he wasn't just a scientist, but making radios out of air vent grates, a coat hanger, spare wires and an orange didn't make him mad. Nor did making a telephone out of a milk jug, a discarded antenna from who knows where and a few metal cans. In fact, it saved quite a lot of money doing things like that.

Jeffery's lab was…make-shift. Without much money set aside for his experiments, he had to make do with more simple things like wine glasses and measuring cups instead of beakers and a small unstable desk instead of a big stable…desk. The basement itself didn't have much of a scientific atmosphere either. It was dimly lit with only one hanging lamp that couldn't even light up the whole basement. The floor was cold concrete, though he suspected some weeds were growing in a corner somewhere, and there was a constant rumbling from the large heater which they had two of since the first broke. There were always bugs skittering around unseen and sometimes the ceiling leaked. But still, it was his lab.

He cleared a space on the cluttered desk for his plate and grabbed a lab coat that hung from a bust of…someone presumably famous, he never quite figured out whom. The coat was Laura's, actually; she just gave it to him so he wouldn't get his clothes dirty. It didn't work because he never bothered buttoning it. Even then as he chewed on some eggs and looked over his notes, the coat was only buttoned in the middle.

Last time he had been trying to see whether it was possible to make water explosive (just for curiosity's sake, nothing else) but then got distracted by the question 'do penguins have knees?' He could tell exactly when his train of thought was derailed because the last part of his notes said 'Do penguins have knees' with more question marks than necessary at the end. (Below it he had written 'Yes.')

So what should he do today? Jeffery thought about this as he leaned back in his chair, the only thing that wasn't makeshift, and he ran his hand through his hair again. Well, he didn't particularly feel like continuing with that exploding water thing…it probably wasn't safe to tape himself doing that anyways.

As Jeffery brooded, he noticed out the corner of his eye something twitching near his plate of eggs. It was a cockroach.

Immediately filled with disgust, he quickly grabbed one of the measuring cups and slammed it on the cockroach. It twitched and tried to escape among the many glasses. Jeffery slammed the cup on it some more, but it stubbornly clung onto life. Why! Won't! It!

…Die…

Inspiration froze Jeffery in mid-smash and the cockroach disappeared to live another day.

Cockroaches had an amazing ability to survive. Sure, they weren't the best survivors, but they would do for this new experiment – to implant cockroaches' survival abilities in humans.

Jeffery immediately grabbed the closest piece of paper and started scrawling wildly on it, occasionally running his hand through his hair when he got momentarily stuck. It would be hard with his supplies, oh yes, but he could probably make something and besides, the challenge was part of the fun!

Plus if he succeeded…maybe he could finally bring in the money like he was supposed to. People would pay a lot of money to increase their longevity. And with more money, Laura could stay home more often. Call him sexist, but Jeffery felt that _he _should be the one going out to a job, not her. Not that he didn't appreciate her work, it was the opposite, really. He was very impressed with how far she had gotten. How many female scientists were there these days?

Complicated problems reeled around in his head. First he would need a cockroach…Jeffery glanced at a dark corner. Huh, easy enough. Then he would need to cut DNA out of the cockroach…get enzymes from the liver they bought recently…use the broken heater as a chamber…

By three, he had a well thought out plan and a trapped cockroach in an upturned goblet. He quickly estimated while trying to drag the old heater out the small closet that setting up everything would take 'til…say, dinnertime.

However long it took him, it didn't really matter. He couldn't see the passing of time in the basement, nor would he notice during his work. Finally, after fitting the heater with a new door, Jeffery got out the camera as he always did. It was always good to record experiments as accurately as possible, and what better way than to tape it? The eccentric scientist carefully adjusted it, checked the setup for the tenth time, adjusted the camera again, wiped his slightly greasy hands on his coat, and finally climbed into the ex-heater. This was exciting…this could change the course of his life! His luck just might change!

Unable to contain his excitement, Jeffery let out his usual wildly mad cackle before closing the door. The mechanism would be triggered in three…two…one…

Jeffery tried to stay still as steam suddenly burst into the chamber although it was almost scalding. With the smoke came a weird smell that made him very dizzy. Only a few seconds in, he could already feel the changes, although he wasn't exactly sure what was happening with the smoke and oh god his aching head…

Finally, when he knew staying in any longer would be seriously detrimental to his life, he slammed open the door, coughing out the weird-smelling smoke and trying to shake off the dizziness and his headache. It was suddenly very dark in the basement; maybe he had caused a blackout. He stumbled over to the chair to lean on it…oh his legs felt so weak…shakily, he reached up to run his hand through his hair.

His hand met hard exoskeleton. Oooooh boy…

…And there were two antennae. Oh god…

Without bothering to shut off the camera, Jeffery ran out of the basement and though it was night out and no lights were on in the house, he found his way to the bathroom just fine. In the mirror staring back at him was something that reminded him of a movie. A…a cockroach head…

…What was he going to tell Laura…?


	3. The Reaction

**I think writing a believable reaction for Laura was kinda hard. Still fun to write, especially in the beginning. (Please review)**

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Jeffery sat on the couch, his tapping foot keeping perfect time with the grandfather clock. Every once in a while, he would reach up to run his hand through his hair then immediately remember that, well, he didn't have hair anymore.

His head felt awkwardly large, as if the whole thing was swollen, and he still had that horrible headache and he was still getting used to his new, more peripheral vision, but it was hard to get used to that sort of thing when he was waiting to break the news to Laura. Oh god, what was she going to say?

Eventually the disoriented doctor decided to eat something to quell his slight feeling of nausea. He got up stiffly, almost mechanically, and dragged his feet towards the cupboard as if taking a step required a ridiculous amount of effort. But upon opening the doors, he realized that he didn't feel like eating any of that. Slowly, he turned to the trashcan nearby.

"Of course," he muttered, his new antennae drooping. God just _loved_ degrading him. But still, shoving all shame aside, he had to admit the garbage tasted good.

He was still in the middle of his snack when he heard the door open. Jeffery straightened, wiping his hands on the lab coat, his nervous nausea suddenly coming back. He had a strong urge to scurry away and hide, but he couldn't just do that…but what should he do?! Should he go out and greet her like normal and try to calmly explain things? He wasn't calm himself! Should he just wait for her to come by? Or hide his face until he told her? Dear lord…

"Jeff…?" Apparently Laura had found she couldn't turn on the lights. "Did you short circuit something again?" And before he could plan something out, she was in the kitchen, frozen at the doorway.

Jeffery was slightly amazed not to hear any screaming, what with her seeing a strange man with an odd-shaped head in her kitchen. She reacted pretty well. However, he noticed her hand slowly reaching for the knife drawer.

"No, wait, don't -" Jeffery ducked as, with a loud cry, Laura chucked the knife at him. "Stop, just let me - !" He dived under the dinner table close by as another knife sailed above and bounced off the oven. Desperately, he crawled for the door to the living room and pushed himself back up just in time for a third (or possibly one of the first two picked up from the ground) knife to barely miss his head and knock the radio, leaking orange juice, onto the floor.

It had been a bad idea to glance over his shoulder. It was always a bad idea. When running for your life, that was the one rule you should never break. Jeffery broke the rule and was awarded with a strong tackle to the floor. Banging his head on the floor didn't help much for his nausea or his persistent headache, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Like the knife dangling dangerously above him.

"Laura!" the cockroach-man cried, trying to turn his head so he could look up at her. Hearing her name, she hesitated, but the knife still hung ominously over his back. He tried to stop his antennae's erratic twitching and slowed his breathing. "It's me," he gasped out, then added for clarification, "…Jeff."

He couldn't see her expression very well, but the knife was still very much threatening, so he pressed on. "We danced…in this very room. Last night. You…you sang. And we danced 'til almost midnight…"

The knife clattered beside him and he breathed out a loud sigh of relief. Laura slowly got off of him, and he could see, as he stretched his back, that she was peering at him partly in horror and partly in disbelief.

"Jeff…" she softly whispered as the cockroach-headed man simply stood and stared awkwardly at his shoes. Suddenly, she grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the window and let the light of streetlights reveal more detail of his gruesome transformation. Jeffery grimaced at her sharp intake of breath. "Oh my god…Jeff…why – who – what happened to you…?"

His bulbous eyes glanced towards the stairs that led to his lab. "Weeeelll…I was working on something downstairs and, uh, I guess you can see what happened." He still couldn't look at her directly but he could still feel her distressed stare aimed for the new complication in her life. The monster. Him.

"And…I'm not sure how I can make myself normal again." Sure, Jeffery was smart, maybe even the most brilliant mind currently living, but it was one thing to implant DNA into a living being; a completely different thing to tear DNA out.

The silence was suffocating. Jeffery finally forced himself to look at Laura, who immediately looked away. His heart dropped. This wasn't looking good. "Laura, _please_, I'm still Jeff, I'm still the man you fell in love with! And I still love you! Please, Laura, look at me, I'm mostly the same…though I eat garbage…apparently." Laura put a hand to her face as if hiding a smile. Jeffery's antennae perked up. "Just pretend you're at work, only don't pin me down in a giant glass case!" Now she was giggling! He set his hands on her shoulders. "Ah! You see?"

"Jeff, wait." Laura quickly backed away as if his touch scalded her. He noticed in the dim light that…she had also been crying. "…This is too much…I need some time alone…" She walked quickly past him down the hall to the bedroom, leaving him standing by the window. With a sigh, he pulled down the blinds again to prevent any late night stragglers from seeing him.

That night, Jeffery slept on the couch.


	4. Anger

**I really like this chapter since there is definitely a badass moment for Jeffery/Dr. Cockroach here...but I feel that I've got this scientist thing all wrong. Do scientists have supervisors? Oh, and please review.**

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Jeffery woke up to what would have been a normal day if it weren't for the roach head. Oh, and the note taped to his face, that was unusual too.

'_Let's dance tonight,_' it said. He carefully set it down on the note on the small table beside him, as if it would easily disintegrate, and lay back into the couch, wondering what he should do today. He wasn't up to doing anymore experiments, at least for now, and he didn't even _want_ to think about his…condition. Wasn't there something he could do to keep his mind off of cruel reality?

Jeffery slowly let his large eyes rest on the floor where there was a rather large orange stain.

Well, he _could_ fix the radio.

* * *

That didn't take long.

The fixed radio stood once more on the side table and Jeffery sat disappointed and bored on the couch again. He had even tried to limit his resources, like refusing to use a citrus fruit this time, but it still had been laughably easy. Even so, while he was immersed with the task, he _had_ felt blissfully unaware of his new horrid form…until he indulged in his old habit of running his hand through his hair. He should really stop that.

Jeffery glanced at the grandfather clock. Only noon. Waiting for Laura was going to be _hell_…

By four, he had made a few lamps, a portable oven, a flashlight and a lawn mower and just finished making a record player out of some pieces of gum, a broken Swiss Army knife and what seemed to be a tuba part he had dragged out of the dumpster months ago. It was then than Laura came home. Jeffery jerked his head to the front door once he heard it open. Strange, she was home much earlier than usual.

He stayed in the living room so as to not startle her again and only spoke after she came in, head bowed. "What's wrong, my dear?" he asked softly, resisting the urge to run up and embrace her in case a repeat of last night would happen.

Laura slowly took off her lab coat and tossed it over the radio. It was only after she sat down carefully on the couch that she said, "I've been fired."

Jeffery almost stepped back in shock. "What?! Why?!"

"I wasn't chosen for that big project at work…because…" She probably hadn't meant to, but her brief glance towards him told him everything. "…uh…because I'm a woman…"

Jeffery felt slightly guilty because, well, it was only because of him that she took so much time off. "But that's not reason enough to – "

"I…uh…got so frustrated…that I threw a glass case at my supervisor's head…"

"Ah." That would do it.

"I'm sorry, Jeff. Now we're both jobless." She tried to lightly giggle, but it quickly died in the air and instead continued to stare sadly at the floor.

Jeffery bit his lower lip. He couldn't help but feel that this was all his fault. His unemployed state had definitely stressed her out before and his sudden accident…well, that probably drove her to the tipping point. And as soon as she heard the next bad news…

"Would you like to dance with me, madam?" He extended his hand with a small, kind smile. Only a few seconds later, Laura took it, though she said, "There's no music."

"Ah, but my dear, I happened to find that old record we bought for our wedding, _and_ I managed to throw together a record player. There shall be music soon enough." After blowing a thin layer of dust off of the large black disc, Jeffery set it carefully on the makeshift record, wound a crank for a bit, and set the needle on.

The music started playing backwards.

"Oh, uh, that's not supposed to…" He tried to quickly figure out how _that_ happened but Laura pulled him away.

"It's fine. Let's dance." She set her head against his chest as they waltzed around the room again. A couple of minutes in, she started crying quietly, but Jeffery tactfully made no mention of it. Besides, his mind was plotting something carefully.

Eventually, Laura fell asleep. He carefully laid her on the couch, relinquishing his coat to put under her head, and set her coat on top. Then knowing that he remembered the way to her workplace, he walked out the door.

* * *

Harold Larder sat hunched over his desk, rubbing the bandage around his forehead. The crazy bitch…he was lucky none of the corners of that thing had hit him.

He wasn't a very impressive man. Like his last name implied, he was a bit on the chubby side. His eyes were rather squinty, but that was because his glasses had broken when he was whacked on the head and it was hard to see much without squinting. He was only in his forties, though, so at least he wasn't balding.

The supervisor had stayed behind as his head really hurt and he felt he needed to sit down for a very long time. Maybe even the whole night. He had waved off any help from the men who worked here and told them they could all go home. There couldn't be much to fear in a place that held only bugs.

Suddenly the lights flickered off.

At first he thought something happened to his already poor eyesight, but soon his eyes adjusted to the dark. He tried to turn on the blur that was the lamp a few times, but no cigar. Huh. A blackout? Harold blearily dug through his pockets and got out the Zippo lighter he kept to remember the days in the army. Also, it was much better than using matches to light cigars. The small light it gave off probably wouldn't help much, but it was better than nothing.

Harold couldn't help but realize exactly how creepy an entomologist lab could be in the dark. Maybe it was time to go home. His head was feeling much better…

The door opened on its own. In the dim light, Harold thought he saw a shadow, but when he squinted at it, it was gone. "Hello?" he called out, just in case. There was no answer. But there did seem to be a scuttling nose above him. One of the bugs? But bugs couldn't open doors. "Citizens aren't allowed to come in here, you know, that's unauthorized access," he added weakly, but there was still no answer. But it couldn't have just been his imagination; how the hell would he imagine the door opening?!

Still, if nothing was going to bother him, he might as well leave. But just as he rested his hand on the doorknob, he heard something drop to the floor behind him. Harold turned around quickly and for a split second, saw somebody behind him in the dim light, but the figure swatted at the hand holding the Zippo and, despite looking rather scrawny, managed to pin him to the wall. Though his head felt like it would burst, Harold couldn't help but think: That just looked like a very angry roach.

The supervisor tried to struggle, but his attacker punched him hard in the gut and he ceased. The days after the war hadn't been kind to him. "Who _are_ you?" he whispered coarsely. The shadow didn't answer. Harold noted that _god_ his head was huge, and there seemed to be smudges that could possibly be antennae attached to it. It would be kind of embarrassing if he really was being assaulted by a giant roach.

"You're the supervisor, aren't you?" the figure hissed. Sounded kinda British. "Do you know Laura?"

"Who?" Harold said with a dry mouth. Oh god, he hoped this insane guy went to the wrong place…

"Dr. Hedison!" Ah, crap.

"Her? Sh-she, uh, er, I - " The man pressed into his gut again as if trying to force the words out. "Urk! I just fired her today!"

"Hire her again," said the shadow with the large head.

"Whu - " started a bewildered Harold, but he was cut off.

"Hire her again!" Harold winced at the shout, suddenly reminded of his glory days in school when he could pick on the smaller kids.

As he contemplated whether to start believing in karma, Harold nodded. "Alright, alright, I will!"

"And put her on the project. Give her a raise."

"But she threw a - " More pressure on his gut. "Okay," he acquiesced weakly.

"I'll be sure to visit you again if you don't," the shadow warned before letting him go. Harold dropped to the floor, rubbing his gut. The shadow scuttled away somewhere and a few minutes later, the lights came on again. He retrieved his Zippo, breathing heavily, wishing he was still a tough soldier. At least one thing went right today. His bladder didn't go out of control.

He would have to hire that Hedison woman again. He didn't want that…whatever it was coming back. But maybe he would only hire her as a precaution…

Pocketing the lighter again, he picked up the phone with shaky hands and called the police.


	5. Goodbye

**Phew, final chapter. Took a while to finish, I suppose...I wanted to make it seem believable and so on. But I don't think I developed the ending well enough. And now I'm wondering how many people looked for Guy Mitchell's song, My Heart Cries For You after reading this thing. Also, I made a small edit in the fourth chapter since it seems the 9-1-1 emergency thing didn't exist back in the 50's. Whoops. Anyways, please review.**

* * *

He'd _really_ done it now…

Jeffery sat at the dinner table, still in his clothes from two days ago sans lab coat, as Laura was still sleeping on the couch. He debated whether to wake her up or not. On one hand, the police could come here any moment. On the other, she was stressed already and didn't need anybody waking her up with more bad news. Then again, she would find out sooner or later…

The roach-man would have been the first to say that what he had just done last night was foolhardy and reckless and completely driven by anger. So many things could have gone wrong. He could have been seen. The supervisor could have actually been a very strong man. The police could have arrested him. In fact, they were probably coming to arrest him now. Nothing much was stopping the supervisor from reporting the incident to them…He didn't even know if Laura would actually be rehired.

Though it probably wouldn't matter in a while, he made sure to keep the blinds down. Stifled light pushed its way through, lighting the place up enough for him to see that the trashcan was not yet empty.

A little after Jeffery ate some breakfast, Laura finally woke up. She sat up, trying to smooth down her bed-hair, and draped her lab coat over her shoulders as if she was cold. The brown-haired woman peeked into the kitchen and, upon noticing her husband, smiled weakly at him. It was obvious she was still having difficulty trying to wrap her mind around the idea that she was married to what looked like a giant cockroach, but overall, she seemed to have accepted it.

"At least I don't have to wake up early anymore," she said, trying her best to sound cheery.

"Laura, I should tell you that - "

"I was always so tired at work because I woke up early, amazing how I never dozed off. Maybe now I can find another job that's close by! That way I don't have to wake up so early, right?" It seemed that Laura was trying to deal with what had happened recently by forcing herself to talk so cheerfully that the bad thoughts had no chance of floating to the surface.

"Yes, but I - "

"I always woke up so early, you were still asleep! Since you couldn't kiss me good-bye every morning, I'd always kiss you right before I got out of bed…oh, I never told you that before!" Jeffery blinked as his wife gave an airy but strained giggle. That was an odd thing to reveal.

He waited patiently for her to stop chattering, get it all out of her system, even though burly men could come bursting through the door any minute. The longer he waited, though, the more reluctant he felt about telling her.

Suddenly she said, "…May I kiss you…?" Jeffery's already large eyes widened in surprise. Laura started to put on her lab coat and looked at the floor, blushing. At that point, somebody kicked the front door down.

"What - " Laura started, whipping around quickly with her coat only half on, but then people who definitely were _not_ the police burst into the kitchen, armored with helmets with visors and possibly bullet-resistant vests, most armed with large guns. This looked more like the _army_…

Suddenly, two men appeared beside Jeffery and roughly grabbed his arms. They pulled him out of the chair and were apparently strong enough to hold him in the air while they strode out the kitchen. Though he did expect _something _like this to happen, Jeffery still kicked and protested – he still hadn't gotten the chance to say good-bye, at least!

"What are you - " Laura had followed them into the living room but was stopped by two other men, who also took hold of her arms. She immediately started screaming, eyes beginning to tear up. "Let me go! You can't do this! He hasn't done anything!"

"Laura!" The cockroach-man tried to reach his hand towards his wife, but they were already too far apart and the men pulled him out of sight, through the front door.

What the hell did that supervisor say?! Jeffery saw that there were dozens of army jeeps surrounding the house, lining the street, and a large truck that would contain him for his trip. A few minutes later, the _whump-whump-whump_ of a helicopter crescendoed and three appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Neighbors were trying to peer curiously out their windows but were blocked by other stony-faced soldiers.

The newly-captured scientist struggled some more and attempted to wrench his arms out of the men's grasp in vain. "Wait!" he cried. "I have to – I must – my wife - " Just then, Laura shot out of the house sounding an unearthly wail, her lab coat still half on, wielding the slightly damaged radio and a tall lamp. Several men immediately came running towards her, but she started swinging around the lamp like a sword, banging heads and kicking crotches, all the while screaming, "LET! HIM! GO!"

She actually managed to reach Jeffery. The two men at his side were momentarily distracted by the furious woman charging at them that their captive managed to bash one with the back of his head and punch the other off of him. Jeffery clutched onto Laura's outstretched arm, but another soldier immediately grabbed his other arm and pulled. Laura's lab coat slipped off and Jeffery was only left with the coat in his hands.

Laura tried to catch up again, but finally one man came from behind and wrenched the lamp from her grip. Her last act of defiance before being restricted by a group of soldiers was to hurl the leaking radio at someone's head. She never stopped that blood-curling cry when the soldiers huddled around her, pushing her back. After he was thrown in the large vehicle, even as the doors of the truck slammed shut in front of Jeffery, cutting off practically all light, he could still hear the pitiful wail. The truck rumbled away and Laura was soon out of hearing range, but he felt that her cry would echo in his head forever.

He didn't know how long he simply sat there on the floor of the truck, just staring at the doors. But eventually another man appeared from a corner. "Good woman," he drawled. "Gave two of my men a concussion with that lil radio."

Jeffery spared this newcomer a long look, not bothering to wonder where he had been hiding. He looked like the epitome of a military general. The stereotypical army cut, standing back straight and chest puffed out, neat uniform with gold buttons…he seemed the type to spontaneously shout, 'Drop and give me twenty!'

"Th' name's W. R. Monger," said the man. Jeffery made no hint of interest and turned back to the door. Monger frowned at this, but simply continued talking. "Our wiretap picked up a report t' the police about a late night assault. After the man reluctantly described a roach-man, the police put it off as insane ramblings." He paused, as if expecting Jeffery to say 'And you didn't?' When it was obvious he was only going to stroke the lab coat in his lap, Monger continued. "But I gathered my troops once we got permission to use an abandoned facility out in the middle o' nowhere for use of containment of monsters." He paused again, inviting _some_ kind of conversation. At this point, he was even fine with an affronted shout of 'I'm not a monster!' and the roach-man trying to strangle him.

This silence was really unnerving. Monger sighed loudly. "Look, Dr. Hedison, you'll have t' talk to me _sometime_. This facility was just made. There'll be nobody else there. Frankly, everybody else is too disgusted to talk to you, or maybe afraid 'cause you're a mad scientist."

"I'm _not_ a mad scientist," Jeffery shot back, still not turning around. Apparently he had struck a nerve.

"Son, whatever experiment you were doing down there made you part cockroach. I just saw some of your videos. You did some reeeeaaally crazy things in your basement." He was given the cold shoulder once again. Thinking for a bit, the general added, "You're a disgrace to scientists everywhere and your wife cheated on you." No furious flying tackles. This was gonna be a long trip.

After the truck ride, they took a winding trip by boat and finally by a small jeep into a desert. Jeffery didn't know who they were trying to shake off, but despite this being something new, they really wanted to keep the place secret.

"There it is," said the driver, pointing at a small bunker in the distance. "Area Fifty - " Monger immediately whacked him on the side of his head. "Sorry."

"It's not a big place yet," the general told Jeffery as the three of them jumped out of the jeep. Apparently he was very confident that the two of them could handle the captured scientist. "Not exactly everybody's convinced we really need this facility. So your room'll be somewhat like - "

"A prison cell," finished Jeffery hoarsely.

"I was gonna say, 'a motel room.'"

It was like a prison cell.

It was small, underground, mostly made of concrete, and there was the distinct sound of bugs scuttling around, out of sight. Kinda like his old basement. One side was made of glass for observation, as if he were a zoo animal. The door was heavy steel with several locks to prevent him from escaping. The light fixture above flickered every few seconds. The bed looked very uncomfortable.

When Jeffery sat down on the bed, his head still bowed down, the driver gave Monger a clipboard before leaving. "Apparently, your name has been changed to Dr. Cockroach."

"Is 'Doctor' supposed to be my first name now?" the man formerly known as Jeffery droned back.

Monger smirked, though he noticed even this jab had pitiful energy behind it. Hopefully the guy'll grow more responsive. "Dunno. Maybe your new full name's 'Dr. Jeffery Gregor Cockroach comma Ph dot D.'" The general's smile dropped when the man retreated back into silence.

God dammit, he didn't become a war hero to then become a therapist! He never signed up for the army to be dumped in the middle of a desert with, to be frank, a mad scientist! But still, he lingered. "What d'ya eat? I'll have t' tell the staff that." Monger waited for a bit. "It can get pretty boring in here, y'know. If ya want, I can bring in something t' occupy your time." More silence. "You can, I dunno, design stuff for this place. Make it more comfortable. Modern. Futuristic. Whatever." The silence was now as thick as canned chowder that had been left on the shelf too long. Finally, Monger left. The steel door shut with a loud bang.

He now only had two things to remember his old life by. The imprisoned monster just sighed and slipped on the lab coat. It still smelled of watermelons. Then Dr. Cockroach sang, soft and low.

"_An uuunimportant quarrel was whaaaat we had,_  
"_We haaaave to learn to live with the gooood and bad._  
"_Togetheeer we were happy; apaaaaart we're sad,_  
"_This loooonliness is driving me maaaad_…"

"_Myyyyy heeaaarrt criiiees for you, siiiighs for you, diiies for you._  
"_And myyyy aarrrms loooong for you,_

"_Pleeeease come back to meeee_…"


End file.
